The way this flower has twisted and bent to the wind and light
is beautiful.
But, don't take my word for it.
Go. See for yourself.

These clouds that lumber across the sky
like workmen with heavy loads and many miles,
They long to release their burden.
And the rain, when it falls, will fill this green profusion.
This too is beautiful. Come. See.

You will not find this flower.
This shower will not refresh you.
Beauty persists. This passes.

This young woman running through the trees
arrests me.
She will age.
Beauty is always a young woman running through trees.
She will never die.